


Tech support

by Neutralchaos, Quarra



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alexander Pierce is a bag of dicks, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Brock did not sign up for this, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Excessive use of the word fuck, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, NSFW Fanart embedded, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11094591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neutralchaos/pseuds/Neutralchaos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra
Summary: “We've run into… some issues with technicians and getting the asset prepped as of late.” Pierce says, still sipping on that fucking coffee.“Issues.” Brock deadpans. There are only two types of issues when it comes to the techs and the asset. And Brock is pretty sure it's not someone’s heart decided to grow a couple sizes.





	Tech support

 

“Why are we here so fucking early?” Brock cannot help but ask. Sue him. It's ass o'clock in the morning, and he wasn't even given time to grab a cup of terrible break room coffee before he was summoned downstairs to stand in front of a reinforced door with a window off to the left and Pierce sitting there sipping on what looked/smelled to be the best goddamn coffee in the fucking world.

 

“I need you,” _sip_ , “to help get the asset mission ready” Brock has to do a mental double take because…

“Don't we have an entire team of technicians to do that?” He was sure that was what those sniveling lab coats were for. 

“We've run into… some issues with technicians and getting the asset prepped as of late.” Pierce says, still sipping on that fucking coffee.

“Issues.” Brock deadpans. There are only two types of issues when it comes to the techs and the asset. And Brock is pretty sure it's not someone’s heart decided to grow a couple sizes. 

“Yes.” Fucking finally the cup is being set down, and Pierce is walking across the room over to the door. As he unlocks it he almost casually states, “it’s killed 6 of them this week alone. And now they refuse to go anywhere near him, until he's been prepped sufficiently.” 

 

_Oh wow. Great explanation. Yep._ That just dispelled the last of that sinking feeling that Brock’s had in the pit of his stomach since he heard the words ‘help get the asset mission ready’. 

 

Said asset is standing in one of corners, fully decked out and looking to be plenty mission ready to Rumlow.   

“We've found… that he seems to have a preference for muscular men.” 

_Oh shit. No._ Brock is willing to do a lot of fucked up shit for this organization, but this, this isn't one of them and with the way the asset has zeroed in Brock, he's betting that “no thanks” isn't going to go over well.

 

 Shit. Who knew he'd be regretting not taking those ‘no means no’ talks seriously. 

 

The sound of the door slamming shut and the locks clicking into place snaps him out of his head. The urge to race up to the door and try to kick it down is very strong and it's only the years of brutal training that keep him from doing just that. Which leaves him now, locked in a room, having the world's most uncomfortable staring contest with a cyborg assassin. The speakers crackle and then Pierce’s slimy smooth voice echoes around them, “Make sure he's completely satisfied Agent. The last thing we need is him getting distracted tomorrow.” there's a small pop and now it's just the two of them. Still staring at each other. Well, Brock is staring, the asset looks like he's already rammed his dick into Brock’s asshole and if Brock doesn't think of something soon, that's exactly what's going to happen. 

 

Except the asset has already crossed the room and is starting to herd Brock towards the cot sitting in the corner and nope. Not happening.

Here's the thing though, even as he twists his body and ducks under the Assets arms, he knows that there is no way he's going to win this one. Brock knows that this ends with his pants around ankles and his ability to walk severely hindered tomorrow. He also knows that if he stopped and just let the asset get his jollies off, that there is a better chance of him actually walking out. As opposed to the gurney he's going to need if he keeps this up. Brock has always been a stubborn bastard though, and there is no way he's going to lay back like cheap hooker and just take it from a brain dead popsicle. 

 

It's really no surprise when the asset very calmly shoves Brock against the window, face first. It's pretty much expected when he feels a tug at his belt and nope. He's going to need his pants after this is over with. So he smacks the hand ( _thank fuck it's the flesh one_ ) and snarls “gimme a minute,” before he's undoing his belt and making short work of the button and fly on his tac pants. It is not exactly easy given the angle he's at, and he knows how stupid he looks, but time is of the essence here. He's not even given time to get them off completely, as soon as they start to drop Brock registers a growl from behind him, and for a second he can't register why before he looks down and remembers…. The Underwear.

 

_Shitshitshit_ and then his legs are being kicked apart just enough to make him feel like he's on fucking display. Which, if he stops to think about it for a second, he probably is. There is no way that slimy bastard Pierce left him to this humiliation in peace.

 

That's really the last thing he coherently thinks before there's something cold and unyielding pressed against his asshole. Oh shit, he thinks, as it's jammed right in there, lube. Someone really needs to fucking program the need for lube into the Asset. Because holymotherfucker it's bad enough that he's got two metal fingers up in there, moving around like he's trying find something that he's dropped, but the plates are fucking catching on his insides and the squelching noise he's hearing now has to be his own damn blood easing the way.  

 

_Oh thank fuck_ is all he can think when they're pulled out of him, before he remembers what happens next. The hand on throat forces his ass further out and reminds him that he is very much outmatched here. There's a warm blunt pressure before the asset is sinking into him and _holy shit, how the fuck do the techs stuff it into the pants?_ Because it feels like it's going to come out the other side up through his mouth. 

 

After what seems like forever Brock finally feels the heavy fabric of the Asset’s pants hit the back of his thighs and lets out a huff of breath, screaming at himself to just fucking relax already. Brock is not given that chance before he feels the drag of that length being pulled back out, leaving just the head of his dick inside, and thrusts forward to do it again, and again. He feels the breath get knocked out of his lungs with each repetition. It hurts so fucking much, but he can't stop the gasps for air, can't prevent the sweat that forms and slides down his back as the asset plows into him over and over and over again. 

 

The Asset must be mistaking for the sounds of pleasure, because he starts favoring speed for depth; pulling out just enough to pump back in, setting a brutally harsh pace. Now Brock would not be able to tell when his cock started leaking onto the tiled floor (and given that the Asset has not been aiming for that wonderful button inside of him, only brushing against it by accident, tells Brock things about himself that he's not ready to acknowledge) but it is. A steady stream of his body’s fucking compliance.

 

 

His hips so are being gripped so hard that he knows bruises will form by tomorrow, will be really fucking hard to explain away if anyone were to get a glimpse of them. The Asset forces Brock to start slamming back up against him with every thrust; from behind the muzzle, Brock hears what sounds like harsh pants but that's really the only indication he has that the Soldier is any way affected by any of this. Well, besides the fucking huge cock splitting him open. All he can is claw futilely at the window in front of him as the soldier threads his flesh hand into Brock hair, fucking yanks on it, pulling his head back which has the lovely side effect of him arching his back. Judging from the grunts behind him, and the way the grip on his hip goes from bruising to damn near bone crushing, Brock would say that the Asset fucking approves. Moments later he's pushed even further into window as the Asset tries to bury himself even further into Brock, finally stops fucking moving except for the twitching of his cock as he coats Brock’s insides with his come. 

 

_Fucking finally,_ Brock thinks. All he has to do is wait for the Soldier to get off of him, do up his pants and start plotting all the ways he's going to murder Pierce. Except, the Asset isn't moving away from him. _No_. He thinks, as his ass involuntarily clenches around the still fucking hard cock in his ass, and then the Asset is moving again. 

 

_I'm going to fucking murder Pierce_ , is his last coherent thought before he passes out.

 

Brock barely manages to limp his way into Pierce’s office the next day, so when Pierce gestures to one of those fancy couches he has there, Brock has to give a very firm shake of his head. He’s a fucking professional, and if he opens his mouth he's going to try and follow through with every last single thought hes had of killing Pierce. He chooses to seethe in silence at this point, and so stands, watches as Pierce settles himself down without wincing, and decidedly does not think of smashing his smug face against the floor.

 

“I called you in here to congratulate you on a job well done yesterday. The Asset not only performed far better than usual, but was also exceptionally docile during mission wrap up.” Brock is sure that he's not doing the greatest job of keeping the murder off his face right now, but either Pierce mistakes it for being in colossal pain or just doesn't give a shit. Brock is certain it's the second one if he's going to be honest with himself, because he fucking continues with; “I've decided to make you a permanent member of the Asset’s team.”

 


End file.
